


Children of the Fae

by Saku777



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, It's more like it's just EngBela hints, than a actual relationship, which is why it's still gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 02:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saku777/pseuds/Saku777
Summary: A drabble for aph rare pair week, the prompt being Gods, Goddesses and Mythology. England and Belarus talk and bond sort of over their interest in magical creatures, she decides then that he's worthy to even meet one of her own.





	Children of the Fae

Belarus harshly put a cup of tea in front of him and then gave herself one before wordlessly sitting down at the table and then seeming to space off and stare at England’s hair, or perhaps something behind him, he wasn’t quite sure. “I thought you lot were supposed to be hospitable,” he said dryly, yet also politely. It was best to be on his toes with her, she was intriguing but he could never quite figure out what she might do. What a puzzle the girl was.

“I am being hospitable, I didn’t fucking kick you out and I gave you tea.” What was left unsaid was that tea was slightly pricey so it was only reserved for those she had no real issue with or liked. “Right, quite so,” England agreed, clearing his throat awkwardly and taking a sip. It wasn’t bad, no it wasn’t as good as his tea but it wasn’t bad at least. He kept his thoughts to himself however, again one must be on one’s toes. She simply resumed staring again as she drank her own tea. It was silent for a moment and then she spoke once more, startling England slightly. “Listen carefully, I have heard that you can see folkloric creatures. Is this true?”

England stopped drinking and looked at her. “Well…yes, but where did you even hear this? I suppose some tossers were taking the piss out of me,” he said once more in a dry tone. He didn’t really care, it was expected after all. The world seemed to live to mock Arthur Kirkland, as the isle of England was known as. He was used to it, it was his fate in life. Belarus didn’t seem to care about his fate though since she reached across the table, took his cheeks in her hand and squished them together. “I have my ways and it’s as important as a bag of dicks. What is important is the fact that you can see the truly important. So I don’t regret giving you tea I’ll have to take you to meet the leshy. If you can see him and not piss him off then you were worthy of my tea at least.”

England was dumbfounded. “What the bloody hell does that have to do with tea? I heard the creature mentioned at your library in my place…but I can’t quite recall what it is.” “Tea is expensive these days!” she declared as if that explained everything. To her it did, she wasn’t rich and so scrimping was the way of life. She finally let go of his head and stood up, “Come along, we’ll go now.” England rubbed his cheeks and tried to smooth down his ruffled hair, with little success, and followed along as they exited Belarus’s house. She suddenly took his hand, which made him yelp since it was quite cold, and almost quite suddenly they were at the edge of a forest.

The woods were old and ancient, perhaps some of the oldest in Europe, and it made a small secret part of England’s wizened heart joyful. It reminded him of youth and things deep within his soul. “There are woods near Minsk but today he’s here near the border. I’m not so fucking stupid as to tell the leshy what the hell to do. He does as he pleases and that’s fine by me,” she said. She figured England would understand the foolishness of bossing the other creature around so she said no more. As the entered the lush green woods silently England felt many eyes watching him, but sensed no malice. Perhaps it was because he was with Belarus, or perhaps it was because their intentions were good, he couldn’t be quite sure.

She was still holding his hand and England thought it would be rather foolish to let go, so he didn’t even try. Instead he broke the silence and said, “So just what is the leshy exactly and what is he to you?” Belarus glanced at him and said, “He’s a spirit of my forests, he goes where he wills but can show up in any forest he pleases. The old ones are the ones he likes best, after all he holds many memories as do I. To me, the leshy is my grandfather. I have a batka and I have a grandfather. That’s him.” England couldn’t tell if she was sad or pensive or even wistful. Her face and even the tone of her voice was a cipher. Then she said, “When I was a small child I used to run off at times into the woods. For no reason really, the humans never treated me poorly…as individuals,” she added darkly. “However I felt at home along my trees and leaves and animals, perhaps there was something of them that called to me. During those times the leshy would look after me and teach me many things about the world and magic.” There was a pause as she stopped, looking around and then going further into the woods. “I still talk to him of course, because I’m not an ungrateful brat and he’s still my grandfather. He likes to see new and interesting things sometimes, so I show him. Today it’s you, since you can see him surely you’ll be some some interest. Don’t be a dull bastard around him or disrespectful, he won’t like it.”

England listened to Belarus’s words, she truly was an intriguing creature who never failed to surprise him. This was a being, he felt, that was at one with the forest and truly loved and cared for it. He figured that was why the leshy chose and loved her from when she was very small. It probably also helped that the leshy was in a way a part of her, a being part of her culture. England himself, despite living in London and surrounding himself with city and people, smoke and smog, innovation and industry also still understood his forests and his creatures and had a good deal of respect for them. They were things to be loved, treasured, and feared all at once and never to be taken for granted. As he thought of all of this England almost felt young again, as if it was the medieval times and Belarus herself was one of the fae; beautiful, treacherous, and incomprehensible all at once.

As if sensing this she looked back and asked, “And what the hell are you thinking of?” England was silent for a moment and said, “Ah, just…about your tale. It’s not something one hears of often, that’s the thing. Most people are blithering idiots about supernatural beings and don’t take the time to value them. They laugh at shite they don’t truly understand, and not only is it regretful but quite annoying as well. It just irritates me a tad, that’s all.” She nodded and said, “It pisses me off too. Basically only fucking idiots don’t understand or respect. It seems you’re not a fucking idiot, so you’re in luck.” England didn’t know how to feel about this. “..Thank you I suppose, I’m cursed to be surrounded by them instead. Not you,” he added quickly, “But I mean France and America.” He heard her grumble as well and even her hand clenched tightly around his own. He was a little worried she was going to do some damage so he quickly said, “But enough about those gits, what you said brought another thing to mind.” It worked and her hand lessened it’s grip. “And that is?” England cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. He had no idea how deep they were in now, but it was alright, the woods still felt safe. “Right. It just reminded me of my own childhood long ago.”

At that Belarus couldn’t help but feel slightly curious so she said, “Tell me.” He felt mildly pleased she even asked, most people didn’t seem to want to care. Not that it mattered to England, it was better that way. Some things were best kept secret. “Sometimes it almost seems like a dream. Other times it feels quite vivid. I used to go off into the woods often when I was able to and when I wasn’t able to I always longed to.” That and the sea, but the sea wasn’t the topic of discussion and he doubted she cared much about that. He would be surprised though if he learned more, since she had her lakes and bogs, which were very dear to her heart. “When I was there I used to visit the fae and played with Robin Goodfellow and even spoke to the ghosts and unicorns that resided in the forest. Perhaps they gave me leeway that humans didn’t or can’t have. They still do really.”

However then, whatever spell came over England faded and he felt a little ashamed of himself and his frankness. “You probably think it’s all tosh though, it all sounds rather fanciful doesn’t it? If it helps they’re sometimes quite awful, but most things in the world are. It’s not really as sentimental as it seems.“ She shook her head, “No, but you’re right. They’re dangerous beings if one isn’t care and it’s true. Most things in the world are crap, if precious nonetheless since they can’t last forever. One must value all things.” England thought about her words but didn’t give much time since Belarus then said, “ If shit goes well with the leshy show me a unicorn and let me meet Robin Goodfellow. Maybe a ghost or two as well, but I get enough of them here. This land is coated with death and memory.”

England made up his mind to do so, he felt she would appreciate them at least. He also sensed the truth in her words for he sensed the heavy pretense of loss, pain, and sorrow. The weight of memories rested on these borderlands between east and west like a shroud. It wasn’t surprising however given the recent past and for the first time, he wondered how she dealt with it. It was never something that crossed his mind before. Then they stopped and his thoughts were cut off by a sharp and sudden, “Shut up. He’s here.” The forest fell silent and not even the birds chirped now. Then there was an odd whistling sound, almost like the wind though the trees, but not quite. The leshy was singing. The odd ancient tune grew louder and louder until suddenly there was no mistaking it, it was right in front of them.

The leshy was a odd ancient old being. He was as tall as the trees, dressed in bark and animal skins. His skin was rough and his beard long and thick with vegetation and growth. His skin was white with a greenish tint. He had long horns and pine cones and needles made up his hair. He continued singing his song, which was soothing and terrifying all at once and then once he stopped he looked around, sensing both of them there. Belarus was delighted and it showed by a rather beautiful smile on his face. “Grandfather, here!” He looked around for a second, looking for her and once he spotted her on the ground he leaned over, picked her up, and placed her on his shoulder. As he did so he grew a little smaller and now in fact was small enough for Belarus to set comfortably on his shoulder with her legs dangling over it. She almost looked like a little girl, and the entire scene would of been charming to England if he hadn’t been so shocked at everything.

For the moment he stood there, stock still in amazement. He didn’t want to run though, running would be stupid and as many vices as he might have, being an idiot wasn’t one of them. At least not most of the time. He knew he was in Belarus’s and the leshy’s domain now and at both of their mercies. “That’s him, he can see beings like you from his own homeland and from others’ as well,” Belarus said, pointing to England. She was sure the leshy would be pleased with him. It was another thing she wouldn’t admit aloud but after talking with him more and more in the recent past she found that England was interesting in his own way, in addition to sensible and polite. She found him entertaining to talk to at least as well and he didn’t give her a headache, no small feat in her eyes. So many people in the world were dull or aggravating, it was a pity.

The leshy turned his eyes to England, looked at him and spoke to Belarus in rasping Belarusian. England again stood there still, but ventured an awkward little wave at the being. He was wishing he had some treat for the creature but then realized he had no idea what he liked and cursed his lack of foresight. This didn’t seem to bother the leshy though as he slowly reached over and picked up England, much to the nation’s quiet panic, putting him on his other shoulder and starting to walk off with them both. It was useless to struggle so he didn’t, he merely let out a quiet defeated sigh. Well, it could of been worse, but still he wasn’t that fond of feeling like a hobbit on an ent.

“…Yes, hallo. It’s quite nice to meet you too. I..I presume you’re the leshy…Belarus has told me so much about you,” he said in a halting and awkward voice. “…And I’m England…also known as Arthur Kirkland…though that’s not so important as of now. You’re quite a…majestic creature aren’t you?” His complement was followed by two laughs, one that sounded like the wind swaying though the trees and another that was harsh yet girlish at the same time. Belarus was pleased, England was being so nice to her leshy, but she could tell from the moment he entered the forest that he would. He understood the heart of the trees and the woods, he was one with them and so perhaps he was in a way, one of the fae’s children too as she was one of the leshy’s children. She peered over at him, “He likes you. Tell him your stories of the woods and all that other shit, he wants to know and listen.”

England blinked as they continued to go though the woods, it was clear he was going to be here a while, he figured he’d best make the most of it. He knew too he could be in worse company, so it wasn’t so bad now that he thought more on it. Then Belarus spoke again, “But he says next time you come around, bring him honey or fruit from your place. I’ll make sure to remind you too.” While Belarus again didn’t say it, that was an invitation to return, something not made lightly.

**Author's Note:**

> The leshy is a Belarusian folkloric creature   
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leshy  
> And there are also references to English creatures as well  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puck_(mythology)


End file.
